“Yeah, Shrinky Dink?”

“You’re not all bad.”

She looked right at him and almost smiled. “You know what they say. Maybe I’m just drawn that way.”

2.11

Family Reunion

Once my dad was safely in the hands of the reenactment medics, I couldn’t get back to the party fast enough. I pushed past the girls from Jackson, who had ditched jackets, and were looking skanky in their tank tops and baby tees, gyrating to the music of the Holy Rollers. Minus Link who, to his credit, was right on my heels. It was loud. Live band loud. Live ammo loud. So loud that I almost didn’t hear Larkin’s voice calling me.

“Ethan, over here!” Larkin was standing in the trees just past the reflective yellow rope that separated the Safe Zone from the You-Could-Get-Your-Butt-Shot-Off-If-You-Cross-This-Line Zone. What was he doing in the woods, past the Safe Zone? Why wasn’t he back at the house? I waved to him and he motioned me over, disappearing behind the rise. Usually jumping that rope would’ve been a tough choice, but not today. I had no choice but to follow him. Link was right behind me, stumbling, but still somehow keeping up with me, just the way it used to be.

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Yeah?”

“About Rid, I should’ve listened.”

“It’s okay, man. You couldn’t help it. I should’ve told you everything.”

“Don’t sweat it. I wouldn’t have believed you.”

The sound of gunfire echoed over our heads. We both ducked, instinctively.

“Hope those are blanks,” Link said nervously. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if my own dad shot me out here?”

“With my luck lately, it wouldn’t surprise me if he shot us both.”

We reached the top of the rise. I could see the thicket of brush, the oaks, and the smoke of the artillery field beyond us.

“We’re over here!” Larkin called, from the other side of the thicket. By the “we,” I could only assume he meant him and Lena, so I ran faster. Like Lena’s life depended on it, because for all I knew maybe it did.

Then I realized where we were. There was the archway to the garden at Greenbrier. Larkin and Lena were standing in the clearing, just beyond the garden, in the same place where we had dug up Genevieve’s grave a few weeks ago. A few feet behind them, a figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It was dark, but the full moon was right over us.

I blinked. It was—It was—

“Mom, what the heck are you doin’ out here?” Link was confused.

Because his mom was standing in front of us, Mrs. Lincoln, my worst nightmare, or at least in my top ten. She looked strangely in—or out of—place, depending on how you looked at it. She was wearing ridiculous volumes of petticoats and the stupid calico dress that cinched her waist way too tightly. And she was standing right at Genevieve’s grave. “Now, now. You know how I feel about profanity, young man.”

Link rubbed his head. This made no sense at all, not to him, and not to me.

Lena, what’s happening?

Lena?

There was no response. Something was wrong.

“Mrs. Lincoln, are you okay?”

“Delightful, Ethan. Isn’t it a wonderful battle? And Lena’s birthday, too, she tells me. We’ve been waiting for you, at least, one of you.”

Link stepped closer. “Well, I’m here now, Mom. I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t be out past the Safe Zone. You’re gonna get your head blown off. You know what a bad shot Dad is.”

I grabbed Link’s arm, holding him back. There was something wrong, something about the way she was smiling at us. Something about the panicked look on Lena’s face.

What’s going on? Lena!

Why wasn’t she answering me? I watched as Lena pulled my mom’s ring out of her sweatshirt and grabbed it by the chain in her hand. I could see her lips move in the darkness. I could barely hear something, only a whisper, in the far corner of my mind.

Ethan, get out of here! Get Uncle Macon! Run!

But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t leave her.

“Link, Angel, you are such a thoughtful boy.”

Link? It wasn’t Mrs. Lincoln standing in front of us. It couldn’t be.

Mrs. Lincoln would no more call Wesley Jefferson Lincoln “Link” than she would streak through the streets naked. “Why you would use that ridiculous nickname when you have such a dignified name, I cannot imagine,” she’d say every time one of us accidentally called her house and asked for Link.

Link felt my hand on his arm and stopped. It was starting to register with him, too; I could see it on his face. “Mom?”

“Ethan, get out of here! Larkin, Link, somebody, go get Uncle Macon!” Lena was screaming. She couldn’t stop. She looked more frightened than I’d ever seen her. I ran toward her.

I could hear the sound of a shell being released from a cannon. Then a sudden flurry of gunfire.

My back slammed into something, hard. I felt my head crack and everything sort of went out of focus for a second.

“Ethan!” I could hear Lena’s voice, but I couldn’t move. I’d been shot. I was sure of it. I fought to stay conscious.

After a few seconds, my eyes came back into focus. I was on the ground, my back against a massive oak. The gunshot must have thrown me backward into the tree. I felt around to see where I’d been hit, but there was no blood. I couldn’t find the bullet’s point of entry. Link was a few feet away, propped awkwardly against another tree. He looked just as out of it as I felt. I got to my feet, stumbling forward toward Lena, but my face slammed right into something and I ended up back on the ground. It felt just like the time I had walked into a sliding glass door at the Sisters’ house.